Re:TOKYO MEMORY, Your Fashion Arts Reload ARTS./Fashion

Tokyo Underground

The light is round.

The world is big but it is afraid of its own shadow, the sun, the wind go to meet it, an hour to go back in time, a fertile second, the square of your hair, your head, your mouth, your nose, your cheekbones form a face that gets closer to mine then we move away from the moment. We flee to keep it to ourselves, we eat together, we say nothing, our eyes are dead, we remember that time will soon take its course again, I steal your breath to remember you, I listen to you say that I am not listening because if I did I would feel better, I eat my fist because it takes a weight off me.

Tokyo Babylon

If I ask her what time it is, she gives me the F, if she cries it is to laugh with joy.

She does not confide in me but gives me everything, the sky looks down on her arms as she draws syllables to describe a scene, a lady stealing her place, a badly cooked chicken, the canteen, the efforts to be made, the toilets, the remakeover in front of the mirror, the car park, the bottle of booze, the bribes, the open mouth, the money, the weekends that start on Thursday, the aplomb then the lack of courage, the strength then the impossibility of defending herself, this body that belongs to whom. Tell me something else if my memory come back.